The Battle For America-A Novelized TL

[History_Pintobean]

Part One





Prologue


Of all the shit the Nazi's threw at us during the surprise invasion on July 4th, 1964, I remember the bombs. It didn't matter if it was artillery fired from battleships, or hot death raining down from the sky from their bombers. The result was the same. At first, I thought they were all part of the show. Fireworks. But then the air raid sirens began to blare,while anti-air guns crackled in the night, which I could have sworn at first appeared to be fires set off by stray fireworks.
People started running and screaming. My first instinct was to follow the crowd, but I thought better of it. Instead I threw myself flat onto the ground under a picnic blanket. I still don't know if it was blind luck that saved me, or an act of God that did the trick. But I'm still here, resisting Nazi occupation til the day I die.


Chapter One


I scanned the interior of the bombed out house as I carefully patrolled it's various hallways and rooms. No Nazis here. “It's clear everyone. Come inside.” All four of my friends walked inside, their flashlights shining down the hallway I had been walking in. As the lights got closer, my grip on the trigger of my MP60 tightened more out of instinct than anything else. I was a natural born soldier now.
“Did you check the upstairs?” Bill's voice permeated the house. I figured quickly that there was no point now in checking. Bill would have warned any hiding Germans of our presence right about now.
“Next time Bill, quiet up. You'll get us all killed.” I screamed back. My friends, who by now had reached my location, were all tired. I was tired too. Tired of the fighting and never ending stalemate of a war the battle for America had become.
“Listen to Rick, man. He's ten times the leader you'll ever be. Now lets all move on down to the next house.” Said Robert angrily. Like me, he was ready to whoop Bill's ass for warning any potential Germans of our whereabouts.
“Ya, Bill. Listen to Rick.” Jasmine was the third person of our little cleanup group to speak up this time around. That left Sam to say something next. Only problem was he never spoke up, at least most of the time. He was quiet for some reason. I had long ago figured that something horrible had occurred
way back in July; Then again we all had had something terrible happen to us in July one form or another.